


Love and The Space Between

by river_soul



Category: Justified
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:53:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/river_soul/pseuds/river_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s small and fragile, this thing between them. A tenuous balance she’s about to upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and The Space Between

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to redbrunja for being an awesome beta and for norgbelulah! You both are amazing! This fic just sorta came to and I mean, who doesn't love Boyd when he's beat to hell?

Boyd’s on the porch when she gets home and Ava knows, even before she’s out of the car, that something’s wrong. The sun is sinking quickly behind the house but she can see the stiff way he holds himself. When she gets closer the light from the house throws his bloody face into sharp relief. It stills her on the bottom steps, throat constricting.

“Boyd.” She sighs his name and her voice sounds tired and worn to her own ears. “What happened?”

“Ava.” He says her name but he isn’t looking at her. He’s looking up, past her shoulder, towards the heavens, maybe.

“I’m trying Ava, I swear I’m trying,” he tells her and his body shakes with the effort of it all. There is a familiar rage beneath the projected calmness that he’s fighting against and she can see the grief and sorrow cresting in the shadows, too. The sound of him twists up her insides and she aches, just a little, for what he must feel.

“I just can't get out from under this town,” he tells her and the hurt, the desperation she hears pulls at something inside her. Ava understands him unexpectedly; perhaps she had all along and had been too scared to see it. Later, she’ll reflect, it’s that grief, the raw edge to his voice that moves her up the front steps of her own porch.

She reaches for Boyd and her hand feels small and warm against his. She hasn’t touched him before this and she thinks it startles them both, just a little. She pushes past the feeling and draws him up and into the house.

The smell of sweat and blood clings to him like the dark dust from the mine and it clogs her throat as she leads him up the stairs. He stops when they reach the door to her room but she ignores him, urging him forward and into the bathroom. His expression is unreadable and for a moment Ava falters.

It’s small and fragile, this thing between them. A tenuous balance she’s about to upset.

“We should get you cleaned up,” she tells him once the silence has stretched itself out. She reaches for his collar and he grabs her wrist, the pressure gentle. Ava knows she could pull away if she wanted to. She doesn't though, not with the way she can feel the heat of his fingers through the thinness of her jacket cuff. She thinks about how his hands would feel on her then, imagines their warmth and coarseness against the smooth, curve of her hips. She imagines the weight of him, the press of their bodies together.

She flushes and swallows reflexively before she reaches, with her other hand, towards him. He flinches when she touches the side of his face but then his eyes slide closed. A low noise in the back of his throat escapes, urging her forward. The skin of his jaw is smooth beneath her hand but Ava can see the purpling bruise on the swell of his cheek. She traces the sharp line across his nose, feels for the raised skin of the cut. Probably from the heel of a boot, she thinks, and her breath catches just a little then at the thought of him like that.

There’s a smear of red across his knuckles and the tan skin of his arm is flecked with dried blood too. Ava doesn't know if it’s his and she finds for the first time that she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anyone outside her little bathroom, outside either of them.

When his eyes open again she pushes herself forward and presses their lips against each other. At first he’s stiff, unresponsive but when he releases her wrists he moves his mouth against hers slowly, the movement unhurried. His lips are hesitant though and the hand at her hip is barely there. Ava can feel his body trembling, the way he restrains himself for her.

“I’m not made of glass,” she promises, lips ghosting his sweetly.

“No Ava,” he says and Lord help her if she doesn’t love the slow pull of her name on his lips, “but you’ve been stronger then you should’ve had to be for a long time.”

“Boyd,” she starts but her words falter and her heart feels tight in her chest with the truth of it all. She feels the weight of it so suddenly, the way it wells within her until Ava feels as though it will spill out at any moment and drown her in its wake. She has no name for this lost feeling inside her, only that she’s tired of holding herself up against all this town and its people have thrown at her.

“Just kiss me already,” she tells him and the smile he gives her in return is genuine and strangely beautiful.

“I could never say no to you Ava,” he promises and presses his lips and his body against hers. There is intent in his movement against her and his hands are firm and sure as they pull the clothes from her body. The brilliant green of his eyes strikes her still for a moment. It feels like she’s seeing him for the first time and she lets her fingers memorize the feel of him, she lets her eyes commit his face to memory.

“The bed, Ava,” he whispers against the curve of her neck. “I won’t be having you in this bathroom.”

She lets him walk her back into her bedroom before she hooks her fingers around his belt loops and pulls him on top of her. The skin of his chest is warm and dry against her, but his mouth is hot and insistent. She helps him wiggle out of his pants, unwilling to break contact for even a moment. She’s afraid of breaking the spell they've cast and letting the world back in. She knows this is as much a step forward as it is back but she doesn’t want to think of the consequences right now.

Boyd touches her then, unexpectedly, and she finds his fingers are warm and insistent inside her. Heat pools in her belly as he learns the feel of her body and it’s all she can do to let her breath ease out of her, long and slow. His gaze is heavy, almost oppressive, but she holds his eyes and lets her body fall apart under him. Everything about his movement against her is unhurried and careful. For once she’s grateful not to fall hard and fast into another man’s bed. It makes her appreciate the deliberate way in which he moves, for the way he makes her understand this is not fleeting. That it has meaning.

It scares Ava, the intensity of his emotions but she doesn’t have time to think about it anymore because he’s sliding inside her and oh she’d almost forgotten this feeling, being stretched full. They move together then, finding an easy rhythm and his hands curl under her shoulders and he kisses her like he’s trying to crawl inside her.

“Ava, Ava, Ava,” he says her name like a mantra and jerks unsteadily against her. She watches the muscles of his neck strain; feels his body tremble and his breath go harsh in her ear. The guttural, desperate sound that he lets out pulls her over with him and she cries out his name, squeezing his sides as she rides it out.

When he rolls away, laying out beside her on his back, their shoulders touching, she shivers. The sweat on her body cools quickly and the light touch of his hot skin is not enough to keep the chill away. Ava breathes out and moments past but Boyd is still beside her, unmoving. She hears his breath hitch and then he rises up, a little unsteadily. He reaches for his jeans and Ava realizes then that he thinks she wants him gone. He thinks she regrets this. Maybe she does, just a little. Maybe she’s worried this is a mistake like Raylan had been. She’s not even sure what her own feelings mean, what she wants from him or anyone for that matter. It isn’t love and it isn’t lust. It’s something entirely new and that does scare her.

“Ava,” he says, and her own name is her undoing. It makes her thinks about their dinners together, evenings on the porch and the lengths he’d gone to help her keep the house. She thinks about the way he looks to her for benediction, for salvation with his eyes swimming with want and shame and maybe something like love. It stills something inside her, dulls the impulse to throw him out of her bed and out of her life. She could see it now so clearly, almost painfully so, the way she’d taken root inside him.

“Stay,” she whispers, hand warm and firm against small of his back. “Stay with me Boyd,” she says and they both know she doesn’t just mean now, in this moment, in her bed.

He hesitates for a moment, eyes searching hers before he breathes out, face cleansed and open to her again. His hands are warm against her body when he pulls her towards him then and she can hear his heart, low and steady in her ears. She knows then, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, that sometime during the past few months when she hadn’t been looking he’d taken root inside her too.


End file.
